


The Boxer

by Paint_Stained_Heart



Series: Thawing [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Drug addiction/recovery, Established Relationship, Everyone deserves a good wedding!!!, F/M, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Thawing!verse, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 15:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paint_Stained_Heart/pseuds/Paint_Stained_Heart
Summary: Bucky wasn't sure if he would like weddings.He didn't expect to love them.





	The Boxer

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little one-shot in the Thawing series, of happy Avengers in their happy backyard wedding. Mostly just a little self-indulgent fluff and wedding shenanigans.

Bucky did not know that he loved weddings.

Prior to his second tour in Afghanistan, one of Bucky’s men had gotten married. Falsworth. There are pictures of Bucky in the wedding party, a navy suit coat hanging over his shoulders, with a subtle floral tie and matching handkerchief. He’s seen these pictures (Peter helped him make a Facebook before he moved out) and in each one he is smiling, champagne in hand, buddies on either side of him. In one picture, he is even standing and giving a toast. The only problem is that Falsworth’s wedding is one of the memories he lost to the explosion and concussion, and the man smiling next to the bride with cake all over their faces is a complete stranger.

This wedding, he vows, is not one that he’ll forget.

It’s a fall wedding. He’s not sure why, but he loves that. If he thought Prospect Park was pretty in autumn, Michigan was the best-kept secret in the United States (second only to Nat’s apparent still-mysterious line of work for Tony fucking Stark). The world was exploding with the vibrancy of fall, brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges popping like candy on the tongue. Every day felt like a bite out a crisp apple; he’d taken to drinking his morning coffee outside, books falling open in his lap as the cool air made him feel alive, bundled in his sweatshirt and waiting for Steve, predictably, to worry and bring him a blanket. Something about the brevity of autumn only makes him drink it in more thirstily.

Wanda made a good choice with the date; she and Vision have spent countless hours working out the details for their wedding day. There’s no money for a venue, of course, but the backyard is plenty big and they did it up real nice. Her parents are both gone now, victims of poverty and unbroken cycles, but her twin brother Pietro’s flying in from Serbia, and she’s been cleaning the house aggressively ever since she got word that he’d purchased a plane ticket. Vision’s got no family; his childhood was one of foster homes and almost-adoptions. Bucky’s heard him joke that he comes from nowhere and no one. Apparently, though, the warden from the boys’ prep school that Vision attended from ages 16 to 18 is coming. Thankfully he’s picked up some friends along the way, and they’re coming too. There’s a woman named Friday who was placed with him when they were small, and they remained pen pals through the years. She’ll be the maid of honor; naturally, Pietro is the best man. Thor and Jessica have a place up there, too. Plenty of guests will be filtering in; Jessica Jones is coming back, and of all things, Clint Barton has asked Natasha Romanoff to be his plus one. Maria will be there, too, having worked personally with both Wanda and Vision over the years. Bucky’s not in the wedding party this time, but he might as well be; he and the other housemates have been put to work. The house had become a temporary crafting sweatshop for the last two weeks, all hands on deck. These days, Bucky could tie ribbons in his sleep. And last minute, Bruce got his officiating license online, so he’ll be up at the altar with the lovebirds. Taking any opportunity they could to embarrass Peter Parker, who doesn’t come around so much anymore, Vision’s made him ring-bearer. Even though Clint’s son is five and adorable (and in attendance).

Most of the guests will be current and former deviants who had the good luck to take up residence at Steve’s over the years.  
And Steve. Steve has been asked to give Wanda away. It puts a proud lump in Bucky’s throat to see what Steve means to people. There’s never a chance to forget how dang lucky he is. Steve is the world and a half.

\---

“Can I help you tie that?” Steve asks, watching Bucky struggle in the mirror in the corner of their bedroom. Bucky’s moved in with Steve on the second floor – it’s a bigger and quieter room than the one Bucky had next to the kitchen – and their stuff is pleasantly jumbled in the way it should be when you first move in together.

“Please,” Bucky says back, half-smiling. Steve comes up behind him – slow and noisily, he knows better than to give Bucky any reason to jump – and starts moving his fingers tenderly at Bucky’s neck.

“You handsome devil,” Steve says, stepping back and admiring him.

Bucky punches his arm and lights up a smoke.

“In the house?” Steve moans.

“I’m nervous, alright?”

“I find that endearing,” Steve says, lifting Bucky’s chin with soft fingers. He’s been doing that a lot since Bucky cut his hair short.

“You’re hopeless,” Bucky laughs, taking the last drag and tossing the cigarette butt out the window. “C’mon, we’ve gotta help set up.”

\---

It’s a team effort. Jessica Jones brings the catering – Chaldean food from one of Vision and Wanda’s favorite restaurants downtown. Sam, Scott, and Wade set up the tables and chairs, center pieces and fairy lights. Bruce is somewhere pacing and reciting his lines, looking dapper in his black tux. Pietro and Bucky are with Wanda, helping her into her dress and giggling away in the master-bathroom-turned-bridal suite. Luke Cage is off putting finishing touches on the bouquet. Friday and Steve are on the other side of the house with Vision, psyching him up and blasting, to Steve’s disdain, Kanye. Vision is nervous, playing with his cuff links and checking the rented tux in the mirror every few minutes. They play beer pong (with water) and smoke cigars for good measure. Everything downstairs is nearly ready, and the guests have begun to arrive and take their seats. Through the window, Bucky can see Loki with his camera, poised and ready to capture the evening.

"Ready, sister?" Pietro asks sweetly. He's a charming, thin guy with a shock of hair blonder even than Steve's.

"Ready, brother."

"You are very beautiful, today. Stunning, Scar. Mom and Dad would be so proud."

At that, she takes a settling breath, and Bucky opens the door for her.

Bucky sits front and center after he’s carried Wanda’s train down the hazardous staircase and out the back door. It’s warm for fall, and he’s got a cup of apple cider in hand as he sits down, stomach full of butterflies for reasons he can’t explain. It’s impossible to tell that Rhodey is DJing the whole wedding from a Spotify playlist, and the wedding party – just Pietro and Friday, Thor and Jess – look dashing in their deep, velvety maroons and blacks. Thor’s hair is brushed and tied back, and he takes his place opposite Friday, so they’re on either side of Bruce, who looks flustered but happy at the altar.

Clint’s daughter, Amelia, wears a matching miniature version of Friday's dress and prances down the aisle, scattering white rose petals as she skips. When she passes her dad, he gives her a high five. Unsupervised visitation hours have put smile lines back on Clint’s face, who beams with pride at his little girl. He did her hair and everything.

Then, finally, comes the wedding march and everyone stands. Bucky sucks in a deep breath.

And there, mercifully, are Scarlet and Steve, arms linked and laughing slightly at some inside joke. They float down the aisle, appropriately slow so that everyone can admire the swish of her dress (borrowed from Sam’s cousin), the sweeping curls of her auburn hair. But eyes are only on Wanda for so long before everyone looks back at Vision, getting the first look at his beautiful bride.

Bucky’d be the first to tell you that Vision, with knife marks on his cheek covered only by a swirl of mechanical tattoos, is the last person you’d expect to cry. But he’s totally overcome, with Wanda coming toward him and the thoughts of spending their lives together, starting over with someone who forgives your past and better yet understands it, and Friday actually hands him a handkerchief she pulls sneakily from her bra, and Vision dabs his eyes as Steve places Wanda’s hand carefully and intentionally into Vision’s. There’s no “who gives this woman away” garbage, because Bruce Banner is a fucking feminist, thank you very much, so Steve just kisses Wanda’s cheek and whispers some other sweet nothing into her ear before turning around and taking a seat in the front row, next to Bucky, who reaches for his hand immediately.

Bruce, to literally no one’s surprise, slays. He’s witty and clever, deeply personal and emotional in ways Bucky’d never heard him before, didn’t know he was capable of. He talks about sacrifice, and relationships, and how loving an addict is a whole separate challenge and one he knows that Vision and Scarlet can face together. He talks about softness and listening, reminds them that pride has no place in their marriage. Bucky wonders, for a moment, who broke Bruce’s heart and how he can beat them to a pulp.

They share their vows – self-written and colorful, funny and real. Vision talks about the first time he met Wanda, at Electric Forest, the EDM festival where they were both rolling. Wanda was the girl in leather who asked him to dance, and the rest was history – including the part where she rode with him in the ambulance when he overdosed, and wrote him letters while he served time in jail for their first few months of dating. It’s the first Bucky’s heard of any of this, and he’s getting all teary-eyed at their honesty, their growth. He feels it in his ribs; this is somewhere he could be, someday. This is something he could get to.

They do it right and proper, say their “I do’s” in front of the radiant smiles of their closest friends, kiss each other hard and deep until Vision shrugs and just sweeps her off her feet and into his arms. She buries her face in his neck, and Bucky knows that beneath that curtain of hair, she’s smiling huge.  
Peter brings the rings, and rolls his eyes when Wade wolf whistles as he makes his way down the aisle. In the back somewhere, his (weirdly hot) Aunt May snaps a picture on her iPhone, and the flash goes off an egregious number of times, which only works to deepen the reddening blush on Peter’s cheeks. Bucky has the urge to pinch them right about now. He grins from ear to ear as Parker passes him.

With the rings in place, Bruce announces the newlyweds to the crowd (Vision, who’s never known his biological family, takes her last name) and they do a little jig on the altar in celebration, and Scott Lang yells from his seat, “Let’s eat!” They move to the candlelit tables and continue on with the backyard reception.

\---

Their first dance, to Bucky’s amusement, is a slowed, acoustic version of The Proclaimer’s “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles).” Steve steps in at the end of the song and bends down dramatically to ask Wanda for the next dance, in place of the traditional father-daughter dance. Steve waltzes her to “The Boxer” by Simon and Garfunkel, and Bucky has to reach for his fucking handkerchief again, dammit.

Food disappears into hungry bellies, the mocktail bar opens up, and the toasts are made. Thor tells the story of the first time he heard Vision gush about some pretty little witch who went by Scarlet. Friday remembers aloud him stealing her a pair of winter gloves when she was freezing in the winter of '93, and how she knows he'll care of Scarlet with the same tenderness, generosity. Pietro says, "No one is ever good enough for your twin sister...until they are," and wraps his arms around Vision, welcoming him into the family with open arms. Jessica is downright sarcastic through the whole thing, and Bucky remembers easily how well Jessica and Wanda get along, with attitudes like theirs. After, the dance floor begins to fill, and someone’s let Dodge out, who wags his tail between the swaying bodies hoping for a scrap of food or a hand to lick, overwhelmed by the music and the food and the people.

Clint dances with his kids, bringing out all the his best moves and holding each of their little hands as they smile little toothless smiles at him. Bucky’s glad to notice Loki captures it on film. Maria gets down with her bad self, much to everyone’s surprise, and Wanda shares a dance with her brother. Sam and Steve are shooting the shit in one corner, and Wade’s literally teaching Scott how to do the worm in the grass. Aunt May drags Peter onto the dance floor, and his look of sheer embarrassment morphs into a permanent smile as the night drags on, dancing silly as hell. Banger after banger comes on the playlist – Bucky nods to Rhodes and lifts his drink to him – and they sing at full volume to “Country Roads” and “Don’t Stop Believin’” like you’re supposed to at weddings.

“Mazel tov,” Bucky says when he finally gets a moment with the ever-popular bride and groom, putting an arm over each their shoulder’s as he gets between them.

“Bucky!” Wanda says excitedly, escaping his arm to turn around and give him a full-on hug. He laughs with surprise at the sheer force with which she embraces him.

“Congratulations, love. You too, big man,” he says, offering a metal fist to Vision, who bumps it, grinning.

And there, in that moment, he is among friends and equals, and grinning ear to ear.

\---

The dance floor’s mostly emptied as the night veers on morning, and Steve and Bucky are some of the last stragglers. They’re not so much dancing anymore as embracing and rotating, swaying in a little circle. Bucky’s arms lace easily around Steve’s neck; Steve’s hands are warm against Bucky’s waist. It’s easy and slow, and neither’s had a drop to drink but they’re feeling a little love drunk and tipsy on dizzy feet.

They’ve been making the kind of gooey eye contact that Bucky thought people only did in the movies when Steve’s eyes flit somewhere behind Bucky’s head, and the blues twinkle as Steve’s lips curl in a smile.

“What?” Bucky asks, squinting at Steve with curiosity.

“Don’t look now,” Steve warns, “but I think Natasha and Clint really hit it off tonight. They look happy.”

“Turn faster; I wanna see,” Bucky replies, stepping gently but intentionally on Steve’s foot, who promptly tosses his head back with laughter. It puts a million-dollar feeling in Bucky’s stomach.

They turn to the music, and Bucky eventually sees them over Steve’s shoulder. They’re standing by their dinner table, a bloody Mary mocktail perched delicately in Nat’s birdlike fingers. She’s stunning, of course – skin-tight, full-length black dress with elaborate cutouts down the back. Natasha wasn’t fucking around tonight.  
Clint’s made her laugh, and her red lips are puckering seductively. She gestures to something and makes a joke, and Bucky notes how close they’re standing to each other before he looks away, afraid of getting caught staring.

Steve quirks an eyebrow at him familiarly. _What are you thinking?_

“They’re definitely fucking tonight,” Bucky smirks. Steve can’t hide his initial shock – sometimes Bucky forgets how innocent he really is – but he quickly recovers. There’s suddenly an evil twinkle in Steve’s eye as he searches Bucky’s face for something.

“Are _we_ fucking tonight?” Steve finally throws back, surprising Bucky, as always. He thrusts his hips subtly into Bucky while he says it. Bucky shivers all over, pushes back on Steve. Licks his lips.

Bucky pulls back the sleeve of his tux to look at his watch, groans.

“She still has to throw the damn bouquet. Fuck.”

“No hating,” Steve says, retracting his hips from Bucky’s, who has to resist following Steve. They’re in public, Christ; Clint’s kids might still be running around here somewhere. “I like the traditional wedding,” Steve continues. “All the details, you know?”

“The _details_ are eating into our bedroom time.” He sighs. He’s been itching to rip Steve’s tuxedo off the minute Steve came out of their room dressed to the nines, with cologne to boot. He can wait a little longer, he supposes. Humph. “You’re old school as hell, you know that, punk?” Bucky finishes, leaning in for a chaste kiss.

“You love it,” Steve says with a wink. Bucky hates that it’s true.

“Come on, you,” Bucky says, feigning annoyance with Steve’s ever-inflated ego and pulling his too-big boyfriend off the dance floor as the last few notes of the song fall away.

The bride and groom are almost ready to go. They don’t know it yet, but Sam rearranged some funds for their honeymoon; they think they’re doing a staycation downtown, but Sam hooked them up with the cutest little cabin up north on Lake Superior, fully stocked with food and wine, lacy lingerie and silk robes, trail maps and their hiking gear. It’s no Bahamas, but it’s something.

Everyone’s gathered around now near the back gate of the house. Wanda looks as gorgeous now as at the beginning of the evening, which is a feat in Bucky’s book considering all the hours she spent getting ready and all the shuffling around they’ve been doing to her. Her eggshell white princess dress is as elegant as ever, and the autumnal flower crown she opted for in lieu of a vail (Bucky’s recommendation) has fallen adorably into her eyes. But more important than her ostensibly good looks is the way she holds her chin up. Her scars are obscured by the dimples from her smile and the shine in her eyes. She’s standing tall, like she wasn’t convicted for armed robbery or assault or resisting arrest. Like she wasn’t hardened in prison. Like Vision is helping her melt back into the person she was before shit got hard and the system chewed her up and spit her back out. As she smiles up at her boyfriend – husband, Bucky corrects himself happily – hand entwined with his, Bucky thinks: she looks safe. Comfortable. Happy. He’s so proud of her, in this moment, that he doesn’t even realize he’s crying.

“Softie,” Steve whispers, pressing his lips to the dampness on Bucky’s cheek and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Bucky puts his metal arm around Steve, not trusting himself to speak and yearning to touch him, feel that he’s there.

Each guest is handed a sparkler, courtesy of Loki, who’s been uncharacteristically beaming all night, hair pulled out of his eyes and everything. Lighters are quickly exchanged (they’re a house of chain smokers, what can they say?) and suddenly a glowing path of shimmering sparklers is made for the newlyweds. Wanda throws her bouquet and it knocks the glasses right off Bruce’s face, who glares, embarrassed, but picks up the flowers off the ground and sneaks a sniff when he doesn’t think anyone’s looking. Everyone applauds. Vision’s too shy to slide Wanda’s garter off with his hands, much less his teeth – Bucky muses that now is the time Vision finally cares about PDA?! – so they sweep out of the yard to a cacophony of whoops and hollers (and the occasional lewd comment from one Wade Wilson). They get into their cab with frantic waves to the motley, goofy, loving family cheering from the yard, and speed off into the night. Bucky smiles knowing that they’ll be confused when the cabbie takes them past the exit they’re expecting to get off at, and veers north for their real honeymoon.

Out-of-town and non-resident guests start peeling off to head home. Pietro’s staying in Wanda’s room tonight, but Maria Hill says goodbye to the housemates in a rush of hugs and heartfelt goodbyes. Aunt May and Peter wave everyone goodbye, and Bucky wonders what Peter told her about how he knows all these adults. Wade leaves with his girlfriend after telling everyone about the kinky sex they’ll be having tonight; Jessica takes off to sleep in her apartment downtown, and to return the catering dishes to the family-owned restaurant they borrowed them from. Bucky says goodbye to each and every one of them, then takes it upon himself to herd Dodge back into the house; he knows the dog’ll be passed out all day tomorrow, hungover from all the treats and excitement.

The party moves to the kitchen as Steve, Sam, and Bucky (only by virtue of his new relationship with Steve) clean up outside. They stack plates, pull table cloths, clear center pieces and table assignments and bring the guest book inside. Exhausted, they flop onto the couches and bean bag chairs assorted in their living room to join the rest of the housemates. It’s nearly one in the morning now, but no one seems ready for bed, everyone jazzed by the dancing, the excitement, the dresses and the break from the everyday cog-in-the-machine feeling that weighs on a bunch of folks with the odds stacked against them trying to make ends meet.

Nat is practically in Clint’s lap now, and everyone’s munching on Doritos and pretzels and reveling in a night that no one wants to end.

As the hour creeps ‘til two, Sam hits the hay, then Rhodes, then pretty much everyone else. Bruce receives extra claps on the back, appreciation for his words of wisdom earlier.

“Ready for bed, Buck?” Steve asks shyly, tiredly, from where he looks pooped on the couch. Bucky’s not sure he’ll be able to get the lug upstairs.

“Sure thing, tiger. Why don’t you get on up off of that love seat before you sink any deeper into it,” he says with a laugh, getting up and taking off his tuxedo jacket.

“No,” Steve says, finally popping his eyes open. “I wanna take it off.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, offering a hand to pull Steve up off the couch. “Maybe tomorrow. Let’s sleep, Steve.”

Steve lets himself be dragged off the couch and squeezes Bucky’s ass in the process. “Fine,” he humphs tiredly. Bucky follows him up the stairs, wiping a hand over his tired face. They brush their teeth together in the mirror in just their underclothes, smiling at each other’s reflections, practically falling asleep standing up.

“Think we’ll have one of these?” Bucky says around his toothbrush, nervous and surprised at his own boldness.

“A wedding?” Steve replies, talking slow.

“Mhm,” Bucky affirms, mouth full of toothpaste.

“Hope so, Buck,” he says, half-smiling before spitting in the sink.

Bucky tries to hide his smile for half a minute, nodding nonchalantly and pursing his lips, but when Steve looks him in the eye again, he loses it, and the grin breaks across his face like sunrise.

“Oh, c’mere, stupid,” Steve says, shaking his head and pulling their lips together, tasting like spearmint and nervous energy until they’re standing flush, bare chest to bare chest. Steve licks into his mouth, warm, and Bucky sucks his tongue, smiling into their kiss. When Steve pulls him to bed and curls around him, his favorite big spoon, Bucky tingles under the covers, toes curling of their own volition as he thinks about weddings and how they’re really not so bad. About Steve twirling Wanda with flawless, fluid steps. About Clint’s little monsters running around, getting Dodge all riled up and barking. About the beefy arm flopped over him now, and the snores already escaping Steve behind him. He snuggles up against him, safe, and feeling the effects of the greatest high life could give him.


End file.
